Be My Princess: From the Beginning
by rnfanfiction
Summary: A massive re-imagining project of the entire story, with many new characters, situations, and countries of my own creation mixed with the original material. Small bits of language besides English have been added for fun, but are not to be taken as a sign that anything is an actual representation of any real place or person.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Light trickled into the room from the gaps in the hand-embroidered curtains. It reflected off the marble floors and sleek walls, and sank inside the fur rugs and satin bed coverings. The man in the grand canopied bed sat upright, his muscles aching. Joints clicked and popped as he rubbed his silver-bearded face to better wake himself. Another day awakened with him, and as he moved out of the bed to don his robe, he wondered how many more he would meet. A light knock surfaced from the door across the large room, followed by the soft clack of the door opening.

"Are you awake, My Lord?" Zain, his personal steward and the head of the staff, stepped lightly into the room, carrying a tea tray. The old man, Nobel, descended the shallow three-step landing to sit in the lounging chair while Zain set the tray down on the coffee table.

"You are awake earlier than usual this morning, Your Grace. Is everything all right?" Zain handed him his teacup before stretching out to his full six-foot-three height. Nobel chuckled airily.

"No, no, Zain, my boy. Everything is quite splendid." As he spoke, Zain began to rearrange the tea set on the tray. "I was just thinking of going out today."

"Out, My Lord?" Zain glanced up from the tea tray as he questioned his master, causing his jet-black hair to fall into his face.

"Yes, I'm thinking of picking some things up in Charles."

"I can always send one of the other servants to—"

"Now, there's no need for that. I may be old, but I can go pick up some sweets on my own."

"Sweets, sir? You know how strict your doctor is about your diet."

"Zain, I'm going to die anyway, why shouldn't I eat what I want?"

"My Lord, there's no need to talk that way."

Nobel looked up into the jade eyes that were too tired to be on the face of someone only twenty-six. He laughed to ease Zain's worry.

"Don't take it so hard, lad. I mean eventually. We all have our time. All the same, I intend to go into Charles Kingdom today and wander around the shops."

"Yes, My Lord," Zain said with a bow.

"It's far too stuffy in here, anyway," Nobel added for good measure.

"Yes, sir, I agree." Zain turned his gaze to the rounded, ten-foot high, hand-painted ceiling. "The air couldn't possibly be more thick." A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he picked up the tray and left the room.

An hour later, Nobel wandered alone through the historic streets of Chevis, the capitol of Charles Kingdom. The air was light, the breeze was cool, and the sun radiated down on the cobblestone. People passed him leisurely, having amicable discussions in their native language. He strolled on his own with a smile. Charles was one place he could always go to remind himself of the good of people. Happy faces greeted him at every shop, and the people passed with a wave and " _bonjour."_

He'd convinced Zain to let him walk alone for a while, though it hadn't been easy. The longer he lived, the more his health faltered, and—as his steward had put it—a man of his stature should always have a protection detail nearby. But Nobel didn't expect any problems, especially not in Charles. After all, who would expect him, the master of Nobel Michel Castle, to be walking alone on their streets, completely defenseless? He probably wouldn't even be recognized.

He wandered to the grassy median at a fork in the road and settled on a bench. He leaned back under the shade of the cherry blossom tree behind it and closed his eyes. After a deep inhale, he smiled. Getting out of the castle had been a good idea, but if he didn't get back soon, Zain would likely give him a lecture. He straightened his back and stood. As he did, his head swam and his stomach clenched. Immediately, his arm flew to his abdomen, clutching hopelessly in an effort to lessen the pain, to no avail as his knees contacted the pavement. He placed his other hand on the sidewalk as he waited for the attack to subside.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" He heard a woman's voice call to him from several feet away. He tried to look up at her as the pounding of her footsteps grew nearer, but he couldn't lift his head. Only when she arrived at his side and tilted his head up toward her did he get the chance to look at her. Holes had been worn into the knees of her jeans, and she wore a thinning black tank top with no coat to protect her from the winter chill. Bruises and cuts wrapped around her arms and crossed her chest, dancing up her neck to her face. An upturned, pointed nose sat between two strong, high cheekbones, and her full, hard-lined lips parted ever so slightly in worry as her eyes scanned his face.

"Can you hear me?" She placed her hand on his chin and gently moved his face side-to-side. Finally, the pain in his core vanished, and he was able to answer her.

"Y-yes. Yes, I'm fine now." He pulled away from her as he attempted to push himself back up to his feet. Her hands found his side and stomach as she helped him ease back to a standing position.

"Are you sure?"

He leveled an easy-going smile at her. "Yes, absolutely. I just had a sudden dizzy spell, that's all."

"That was more than a dizzy spell."

Taken aback, he gazed into her unflinching eyes.

"You know," he told her, "you have the bluest eyes. They're like—"

"The middle of the ocean on a sunny day," she finished for him, her voice glazing over. "That's what my mother always said."

"She's right. They are lovely." He smiled at her again. Slowly, she placed her hands in her back pockets and inhaled deeply.

"Well, if you're sure you're fine, then I guess I should go." She turned to walk away, but he called out to stop her.

"Wait, Miss."

Right as she stopped and turned back around to face him, Zain's car pulled up. They both turned their attention to the sleek, black vehicle as Nobel's steward stepped out.

"The time for your outing has expired, My Lord."

"My Lord?" The girl sent a questioning glance to Nobel.

"Ah, yes," he stroked a hand over his beard. "I forgot to introduce myself properly. I am Nobel Michel XIII, current Lord of Nobel Michel Castle."

"Uh huh…"

"And who is your acquaintance, My Lord?" Zain sent a fleeting, dignified glance in the girl's direction.

"Not an acquaintance," she said, holding up a hand between them. "Just a concerned citizen making sure no one was dying."

"I beg your pardon?" Zain turned back to Nobel. "Did something happen, sir?"

"No, no, Zain, stop fussing. I'm completely fine. But anyway, Miss," he said, turning away from his steward's suspicious glare, "would you allow me to repay your kindness?"

"It was a rather weak act of kindness to be repaying, don't you think?" she asked him.

"Hardly so. Let me help you as you have helped me."

"Help me? Do I look like a girl who needs help?"

"You look like a girl on the run." He raked his gaze once more over her attire to demonstrate his point. The girl turned away slightly. "I can help you start a new life, if you'll let me. You'll be able to settle somewhere safe."

She looked at him in interest. Zain opened the back door to the car.

"Why should I trust you?" she asked, her eyes shaking.

"You don't have to, my girl, but has anyone else offered to help?" She glanced from Nobel to the car and back again. "Get in. You have my word that you may leave whenever you want to."

"Why are you so insistent? You don't know me."

"You're right," he smiled at her again. "I'm just a concerned citizen making sure no one is dying."

Her mouth curled as she tried to hide a smile from him. "Fine," she said, taking a step toward Zain's waiting car.

"Just one last thing, Miss."

"What is it?"

"What is your name?"

She held his gaze for a long moment. "It's Isla. Isla MacIver."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Aria placed the cardboard box full of dishes onto the granite island countertop. She readjusted the hem of her tie-dye hoodie and sighed, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her favorite pair of old bootcut jeans.

"This place is gorgeous." Her sister strode into the kitchen, wearing her own version of Aria's outfit, and dropped another box of dishes onto the counter.

"Careful, Symph. You wanna break them?" Aria shifted the box more squarely onto the counter and opened it, examining the dishes inside for damage.

"Calm down, Aria. I know how to handle delicate objects," her sister said as she began pulling dishes out of her box and stacking them on the counter. Aria sighed and started helping her sister unpack, thinking of which cabinets each of the stacks would go into.

The past couple of months had been this way: trying to figure out how to tell her parents Symphony had contacted her, trying to tell them that she agreed to move in with her sister, trying to find the right place… The list went on and, frankly, she was tired. Move-in day had been going easier than she'd expected, though, and besides her sister's occasional clumsiness, she had nothing to complain about.

"Mom!" Her nephew, Henry, came rushing into the kitchen, flailing envelopes in his hand. "The mail came!"

"Well, thank you, baby." Symphony reached out and took the day's mail from her son.

"Is there anything for me?" he asked, peeking over his mother's shoulder.

"Mm…" Symphony flipped through the envelopes. "I don't see anything, baby. Sorry."

Henry twisted his face up as left the room, and Aria smiled as she placed a stack of plates in one of the cabinets.

"I can't say the same for you, though," her sister said, pulling one of the envelopes out of the bunch. Aria turned around and saw her sister flipping a heavy stock envelope over in her hands.

"That's for me?"

"Yeah. Look." Symphony showed her the front of the envelope, where beautiful calligraphy scrawled out their address and _Miss Aria Laurito_.

"Who's it from?" She wiped her hands on her jeans as she joined her sister on the other side of the counter.

"I don't know. There's no return address. But look at this." Symphony flipped the envelope over one more time. A small glob of wax with an elaborate design pressed into it glued it shut.

"Oh." Aria deflated when she caught sight of it.

" _Oh?_ Aria, that's the royal seal of Dres Van," her sister said, staring at it dreamily. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"You can just get rid of it," Aria said as she went back to sorting the dishes.

"What?"

"I don't know what they're inviting me to, but I don't want to go."

"Wha—how do you know they're inviting you to something?"

"Because—"

"And besides, you're turning down an invitation to an event? Who are you and what have you done with my sister?"

"Symph, I don't need the third degree, okay?" She set a stack of bowls in another one of the cabinets.

"You don't even know what it is! You might want to go."

"Okay, fine, then open it. But I'm telling you, I'm not interested." Aria opened one of the drawers and placed the plastic silverware separator inside it. Her sister huffed and slid one of her fingers under the flap of the envelope, trying to carefully remove the wax seal. Aria separated the silverware while listening to her sister fiddle with the envelope for a couple of minutes.

"Oh, for the love of—" Aria walked over to her sister and snatched the letter from her hand, then ripped it open. Symphony stared at her in horror.

"It's just an envelope, Symph. We're not going to put it on display and keep it forever." She thrust it back into her sister's hands, then went back to sorting the dishes. Her sister glared after her and reached into the envelope. She pulled out a card, bordered in silver and brandishing the same seal as the wax.

She opened it and read it aloud:

"Miss Aria Laurito,

You are cordially invited to attend a party held at Dres Van Manor on the evening of Saturday, February Fourteenth, in honor of Saint Valentine's Day.

We anticipate your answer in regards to your attendance. Please inform us no later than Wednesday, February Eleventh.

Regards,

The Lieben Family of Dres Van."

Symphony closed the card and leaned forward onto the counter with a sigh. "Oh my God, Aria. A Valentine's Day party at the castle? That sounds so…"

"Terrible," Aria finished for her.

"What? You're kidding, right?"

"No." She closed the drawer and took the box off the counter.

"Aria!"

She left the room, ignoring her sister's calls after her. She passed through the living room with the large bay window and the family room with its white carpets and sheer curtains, through the empty foyer and the hall into the garage. She added the box to the stack she'd been building next to her car. Then, she leaned up against the cool metal of the vehicle and sighed. She should have seen this coming.

In all honesty, she was surprised she was still getting invitations. She'd ignored the last two, and made up excuses for the two before that. But she'd told her sister the truth: she never planned to go to another party at Dres Van Manor. Not ever.

"All right, tell me." Her sister walked into the garage and sat on the hood of Aria's car.

Aria didn't look at her. "I don't know what you mean."

"Please. You don't turn down invitations to parties. Especially none like this."

Aria laughed in spite of herself. " _I_ don't turn down parties. You haven't talked to Melody in a while, have you?"

"I try hard not to." The two of them laughed half-heartedly together. "Really, Aria, you can tell me. What's going on?"

Aria sighed and pushed off from the vehicle. She stuck her hands in her pockets and wandered around the garage for a minute, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"I've been getting these invitations for the last year."

"Really? Why then, suddenly?"

"Because then, suddenly, I was an Olympic gold medalist."

"Many times over."

"Right. Yeah, I get it. And I'm proud of that, don't get me wrong. And I _was_ excited the first time I got an invitation. Crazy excited. So I went."

"And you had a bad time."

"The worst."

"How?"

Aria wandered back to her car and leaned against it again. "I don't know, I just… didn't feel right."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I sure don't know what it was like to be there, but not feeling right in a group of strangers isn't abnormal. Maybe you should give it another shot, see if there's someone there you can find to talk to. I'm sure there are plenty of people who'd like to get to know the Ice Princess."

"Sure, in the superficial way."

"Come on, Aria, how many people go to these things? A couple hundred? They can't all be scum. I'm sure you could find at least one person there who you could be friends with."

"Maybe. But I'd rather just not."

"Well, fine." Symphony stood up from her place on the car. "I can't make you. But I think you should go. You've got nothing else to do on Valentine's Day. Lord knows you don't have a date or anything." She turned on her heel and sashayed her way out of the garage.

"Symphony!" Aria called after her. Her older sister didn't turn around, and pointedly slammed the door back into the house. Aria sighed heavily and placed her forehead on her kneecaps. She waited, breathed, tried to calm herself down. There was a lot left to do and she needed to focus on that. The whole party nonsense could wait.

She stayed there, sitting in the cool silence of the garage for several minutes, or at least she assumed when the door opened again.

"You're still out here?" Symphony poked her head back into the garage.

"Yeah," she said through the fabric of her jeans.

"You know, we've got an awful lot of unpacking to finish for you to sit around moping." She dropped another box into the stack.

"I know."

"My God, Aria. You've got nothing to mope about. Not with the party of the year that you're attending."

Aria's head popped up. "What?"

Her sister shrugged. "I _might_ have called and RSVP'd for you to go to that Valentine's Day party."

"You _what?!_ " She jumped down off of her car.

"You need to get out of this house and go somewhere fun."

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to _actually_ kill you."

Her sister scoffed. "You are not."

Aria picked up one of the smaller boxes in the garage and threw it at her sister's head. Symphony ducked and watched it hit the door to the house.

"Okay, maybe you are." She watched Aria carefully as she reached for the doorknob. Aria reached for another box as her sister pushed open the door and retreated back into the house. Aria followed, and began chasing her older sister around the house, dodging the remaining unpacked boxes and personal belongings scattered across the floor.

"I can _not_ believe you called and told them I was going to that party!" She jumped over the misplaced couch to cut her sister off at the archway into the kitchen. Symphony stopped short and hid herself behind the other couch.

"On the up side, the guy that answered the phone sounded twenty something and gorgeous." She gave Aria a sly smile.

Aria threw a throw pillow at her sister, who dodged, ducking behind the couch. "I _don't care,_ Symph! I don't want to go to that party!"

"I'll help! I'll help you find a dress and do your hair, everything. Come on, Aria, think of the opportunity."

" _The opportunity?_ Are you kidding me?"

"You never know what'll happen! I mean, I met Henry's father at a party."

"And how did that work out for you?"

Symphony stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "You had to bring that up? Come on, I already said I'm sorry and I'm going to do all the work for you."

Aria sighed and grabbed another throw pillow. "Yeah, you are, because I can't cancel now. You don't go back on your word with the Lieben family."

"Oh, come on, Aria, they aren't that bad."

"Says the woman who's never met them."

"No, seriously, stop. Now get over here and hug me." Symphony stood and held her arms out. Aria remained where she was, her lip slightly curled.

"Come on," Symphony urged, waving her fingers toward herself. Aria rolled her eyes and dropped the throw pillow back on the couch. Symphony tilted her head and gave a smile loaded with innocence. Aria dragged herself across the room and put her arms around her sister.

"See?" Symphony said, squeezing her tight. "Much better." She let Aria go and sighed, raking her gaze around the incomplete room.

"Why is it with all your money and success we can't get movers that put the couches in the right spot?"

Aria inhaled deeply, standing outside the ballroom door. She straightened the rhinestone collar of the silver ball gown her sister had picked out for her and flattened the sheer skirt. Her sister had also curled her neon-red hair and pulled it back into an elegant up-do. She patted its edges, making sure it was still in place.

"Madam?" the butler acting as doorman said to her. She came to her senses and turned her attention to him.

"Oh, I—" she cut herself off. _You're in a castle, Aria,_ she reminded herself.

"I apologize," she said. "I'm ready to go in."

"Yes, madam," the butler said with a slight bow. He pulled open the door and revealed to her the ballroom, crowded with people.

Large Greco-Roman pillars lined the inside, and windows covered nearly every inch of the balcony above. Fantastic hand-embroidered emerald curtains were pulled out of the way by golden décor ropes. Massive chandeliers hung from the thirty-foot, hand-painted ceiling, lighting every inch of the room, and marble tiles weaved together to create the elegant dancefloor, littered with couples that moved in practiced time to the orchestra playing in the back.

Aria stood in the doorway for longer than she should have, surveying the ballroom she'd only been in once before, until she became aware of herself and moved to the side of the room, near the French doors that led outside to the massive Dres Van Manor garden.

She stood alone, in between couples and groups of people talking over their half-empty wine glasses, scanning the room for any signs of a familiar face. Finding none, she grasped her elbows, counting the hours she would have to stay here before it would be appropriate for her to bow out and head home.

"Miss Laurito."

She turned at the deep voice that spoke her name, and straightened her back when she saw who it was.

The crown prince and only heir to the Dresvanese throne, Prince Joshua Lieben, stared at her with a blank, regal expression, his black eyes unflinching. She took a split second to rake her gaze over his formal outfit: black dress pants, white button-down jacket, a black belt, and his blue princely sash draped over his shoulder.

She looked back up into his eyes and curtsied. "Your Highness. Thank you for inviting me."

"Not at all."

She removed herself from her curtsy and met his eyes again.

"It is I who should be thanking you for attending this evening. A ball is not possible without guests." As he spoke, a lock of his ebony hair fell in front of his eyes, but he made no move to put it back into place.

"I suppose that is true," she said, not able to stop the smile that crept up onto her face. "In which case, I am happy I could help make this evening possible."

The prince raised his head slightly, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"Your Highness!"

At the exact moment that Aria began to panic that she'd said the wrong thing, another party guest called out to greet the prince. He turned for a nanosecond before giving Aria one last empty glance.

"Right. I have other guests to greet. Excuse me."

"Of course, Your Highness," she said, dipping into another curtsy. When she raised her head again, the prince was gone, off chatting with some of the other guests he probably was better acquainted with. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to throw her head back and groan, but she did both internally while she passed behind a few of the pillars, putting distance between herself and His Royal Highness Prince Joshua Lieben.

 _My sister's gonna get it when I get home._

She trudged away from the spot, sticking to the wall. She began walking past groups talking, casually eavesdropping on their conversations to see if they were discussing anything she found interesting. Gossip, shoes, and the trashing of other guests floated in and out of focus in her ears as she wound through them on her way to the food table at the far side of the room. She helped herself to a couple of finger sandwiches on a tiered serving dish, and she ate them as she wandered outside to the patio between the ballroom and the garden. Walking slowly along the edge, she ran her fingers over the top of the vine-wound fence, staring out at the walls towering on the edge of the manor's property.

 _I told her this was a bad idea._ Sitting at home alone on Valentine's Day was still better than being out with hundreds of people and not being wanted. She sighed, deciding it was probably best for her to return home, when:

"Miss Laurito," her name was called again by a much cheerier, but still distinctly masculine voice.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with a six-foot-two man in a tuxedo, with blue eyes that moved like the currents of the deep ocean and hair the color of newly-dried dirt. His nose was long and pointed, and his cheekbones practically kissed the corners of his eyes. The most genuine smile she'd seen all night led to a jaw that could cut through a diamond, and Aria found herself staring at the way the ballroom lit up his figure from behind.

"I hope you are enjoying the party," he said, holding one of his hands out to her. She looked down and saw a glass of burgundy wine. She reached out and carefully grabbed the stem of the glass.

"I… yes, of course."

He tilted his head, his eyes glittering with knowledge of her lie. "I must tell you I was surprised to hear you would be attending tonight."

"Uh—What?" she asked before covering her mouth with her hand at how stupid she must have sounded. She wasn't one for formal speech, but when in Rome…

The man before her laughed lightly. "I do apologize, I should have introduced myself properly first. I'm sure you don't remember me. My name is Jan, I'm the head steward here at Dres Van Manor. I receive all of the RSVP's directly."

Aria's eyes widened more and more as he continued to speak, and her fingers closed tighter around the glass she was holding to keep it from falling out of her hands. She couldn't decide what was more humiliating: the fact that he figured she would forget him, or the fact that she actually had.

"I'm so sorry I didn't recognize you," she said.

"It's quite all right, Miss Laurito," he told her, still laughing slightly. "I had no expectation of you remembering me after we only met briefly on one occasion."

"Still, I feel awful."

"That is very kind of you, but there really is no need."

Aria stared into his dancing eyes and smiled, turning her face away from his piercing gaze.

"May I ask what changed your mind about attending this evening?"

"Actually…" She debated for a moment on whether or not to tell him the truth. "It was my sister. She RSVP'd for me and only told me after she'd done it."

"I see…" He trailed off, gazing dreamily out into the garden. "That certainly explains things."

"I'm sorry?"

"I apologize, Miss Laurito, I only mean that I've seen you perform many times, and I found it rather odd for someone with a personality such as yours to be out here on your own."

 _What?_ She gawked openly at him, unsure of how to respond to what he'd said. A dozen things ran through her head, and she tried to grasp one of them to continue this conversation, but she failed.

He continued to smile at her with perfectly aligned teeth.

She closed her eyes and turned her face down. "I—I'm so sorry, I just… I was not expecting you to say that."

"Please do not worry about it. It's part of my job to be observant. Possibly overly so."

"I'm just surprised you were able to deduce that. Many performers have a personality on the ice that doesn't match who they are elsewhere."

"Yes, I am aware of that. But something told me you were not one of those performers."

Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, still lit up from the ballroom chandeliers, and she fully smiled for the first real time since arriving at the Manor that evening.

"Thank you," she told him with the most sincerity she could muster.

He narrowed his eyes as he studied a spot of air over her head. "I'm not quite sure how my statement merited any thanks, but you are welcome nevertheless."

A handful of minutes passed as the two of them shared an oddly comfortable silence. Aria sipped at her wine leisurely, then pulled at the corner of her eye, trying to discreetly shift her contact lens back into place.

"If you're tired, Miss Laurito, we can prepare a room for you."

"What?" She looked at him.

"Most of the guests that attend these parties remain at the Manor overnight. Since it is so late, you should feel free to do the same. I can have a room ready for you in a matter of minutes. It's much safer than going home at this hour."

"Oh, well, thank you very much, but I don't have anything—"

"Please, Miss Laurito," he turned his face to her, "leave all of that to me. After all, it _is_ my job."

Aria stared at that smile, glittering like the magnificent ballroom, and turned her head. "Okay," she said. "Thank you."

"Of course, Miss Laurito. I will look forward to seeing you in the morning." He pushed himself off the fence and walked back into the ballroom without a backwards glance.

Aria watched him leave, replaying his words in her head.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When Aria's eyes blinked open at the kiss of the morning sun, she stretched out in silk sheets, lying on the gentle cloud of a feather pillow. She reached her arm up and traced the hand-carved, golden hem of the headboard above her, and as she relaxed, she counted the crystals drooping off the chandelier. Pale, neutral colors covered everything in the room, and the light coming in the window by her bed spread over it all like water trickling downhill. Aria inhaled, then sat up.

The previous night, she'd been given this room to sleep in. It included a full chest of drawers, a walk-in closet, and an en-suite bathroom. In total, it covered the space of the kitchen and dining room in her house. She climbed out of the king-sized bed and pulled the silk, floral patterned robe on over the peach slip that she'd slept in. She ran her hands down the front edge of the robe, and a knock surfaced from the door.

"Come in," she called, curling up in one of the armchairs at the foot of the bed. The door opened, and Jan, the butler that she'd met the night before, strode effortlessly into the room.

"Good morning, Miss Laurito," he said with that blinding, elegant smile. "I trust you slept well?"

"Well enough, thank you." She smiled too, because she couldn't help it when he had that sparkle in those deep blue eyes.

"That is good to hear. A continental breakfast is being served outside in the courtyard, if you would care to join the other guests who stayed overnight."

"Oh… alright, I guess. I'll just take a moment to get dressed." She unfolded herself from the chair and crossed her arms lightly.

"Of course, Miss Laurito. I shall remove myself now, but if you need any help finding your way, please do not hesitate to ask any of the Manor's staff."

"I will, thank you."

He disappeared through the doorway, leaving her alone with a discreet click of the shutting door. She wandered into the massive walk-in closet, running her fingers along dresses of the finest fabric hanging in a half circle. Pastels of every color spread out before her, practically none of which would avoid clashing horrendously with her hair. She reminded herself to think of situations like these next time she changed the color.

Wandering over to the section of blues and greens, she plucked a baby blue sheath dress from the gamut. She changed clothes and flattened out the micro-creases in the business casual outfit which fit her remarkably, then dared to pull a pair of nude heels from one of the three built-in towers of shoes. About a dozen questions scrolled through her mind of the sheer possibility of this closet being full of outfits that would fit her, but she pushed them aside as she carefully folded the outfit she had worn to bed and left it sitting on the circular ottoman in the center of the closet.

She grabbed her purse and left her room before finding herself in one of the massive corridors of Dres Van Manor. As with everywhere else in the building, the ceilings towered over her, arching above with superiority, and magnificent windows lit up the entirety of the walls and marble floorings. Long, emerald rugs dotted the floors, and matching curtains adorned every window. She walked with no real direction, imagining how long it would take the unseen slew of servants to clean these hallways every morning before anyone was awake to see them do it.

Her senses came back to her when the clamor of multiple voices reached her ears. She turned her attention to a line of people flowing down the corridor in front of her and out one of the doors. She followed, allowing them to lead her to her destination, taking every opportunity to use the giant windows to give her an idea of what she was getting into.

In a matter of moments, she found herself standing among hundreds of other guests from the previous night's party. She tried not to look like she was staring as she watched them mill about in their suits and business-casual-work-dresses, wondering if they slept that way. On the other hand, she was wearing a similar outfit herself, so she wasn't in much of a position to pass judgment. They all talked and laughed in the same airy, phony manner that they had the night before, and she turned away. Maybe she should bring her sister with her to the next party, to prove she wasn't out of her mind by not wanting to be any part of this crowd.

As she made it to the table and was handed a plate, she heard the laughter stop around her and a whispered cacophony came to life. She turned around and followed the eyes of the whisperers to His Royal Highness, who had just appeared out of one of the Manor's doors, dressed far more casually than his guests, in a pair of brown slacks and a cashmere sweater.

 _I guess he can get away with that, being the prince._

He strode purposefully into the center of the courtyard, not making eye contact with any of the people watching him. Jan walked briskly behind him.

Prince Joshua's journey ended smoothly as he neared the fountain, and he turned himself to face his spectators.

"I would like to once again thank all of you for attending yesterday's party, as well as for your continued support of the Lieben family. Please enjoy your breakfast, and do not hesitate to approach any member of the Manor's staff with any comments or concerns."

At the end of his miniscule speech, the excited hum of conversation began again, and the prince started to maneuver through the crowds, stopping every-so-often to talk to a guest. Aria grabbed her full plate and made her way to an empty table, catching Jan's eye across the courtyard. He smiled and winked, and it made her smile as she set her plate down in the most graceful manner she could manage.

She sat down and grabbed her fork, then noticed movement in her peripheral. She glanced up and saw the prince headed her way. Surprised, she momentarily stopped chewing, then realized that meeting the future king of her home country with a mouth full of food wouldn't be very elegant.

She finished chewing and raised the thick, embroidered napkin to her lips before standing to meet the prince as he arrived at her table.

"Your Highness," she said, dipping into a shallow curtsy. "Good morning."

"Right," he said. "I'm sure you slept well."

Aria hesitated. The prince lacked the gentle, friendly manner of his butler.

"Yes, of course."

He nodded. "So, you're going home today."

"Yes, Your Highness. Unless, of course, there is a reason either yourself or Their Majesties would require me to stay."

"No, it's not that." He looked away from her, and his face began to scrunch in on itself. She waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but he didn't.

"Your Highness?" she prompted. The prince turned his attention back to her face, but remained silent. As she opened her mouth to ask again, a voice she'd become rather familiar with entered the conversation.

"If I may, Miss Laurito, you live in Friedenburg, correct?"

She made eye contact with Jan, and those all-knowing irises of his sparkled. "Yes, I do."

"That is very close to our border with Nerwan."

"Yes, it is."

"But there are no problems," Prince Joshua cut back into the conversation.

"I'm sorry?" she said.

"You are only 0.804672 kilometers away from the border, yet there are no reports of violence coming over the wall into your town, which is most unusual for a town built directly on top of the borderline."

She stared at the prince, at his determined expression. Whatever had been making him unsure was gone.

"Yes, that's true, I suppose."

"Are you going directly home?"

Her eyebrows twitched. "No, I plan to go into town for a short while. My nephew has never been to Waldron, and he asked me to bring something back for him."

"I see. You should simply bring him next time."

"Next time?" she asked instinctively. "I—please forgive my rudeness, Your Highness, but what do you mean?"

"The next time you come to the Manor, of course. Bring him. I'm sure it will be interesting for a boy of his status to visit Dres Van Manor. And he can explore Waldron all he likes."

Aria gaped at the prince. _What is going on?_

"It's settled, then. Jan, make sure to give her the scheduling paperwork."

"Yes, Your Highness," Jan said with a bow. The prince nodded and began his brisk ascent back into the castle. Aria watched him go, still dumbfounded.

"I—okay, I'm sorry, but what just happened here?" she asked, turning to Jan.

He laughed. "I do apologize, Miss Laurito, His Highness can be a little brash. But he sincerely meant his invitation for you to visit the Manor on a more regular basis."

"Okay, but why?"

Jan took a moment to answer, staring off in the direction that the prince had left. "His Highness likes to be surrounded by people that he believes will assist him in making Dres Van a better place. It seems that he believes you to be one of those people."

Aria gaped at him. All of this had come out of left field and hit her like a delivery truck. She had barely spoken to the prince the night before. She couldn't imagine how that would lead him to this kind of revelation. Only one thing in all of this did she understand. When she got home, she was giving her sister Hell.

Jan chuckled again. "Please do consider taking him up on his offer, Miss Laurito. The Manor has a state-of-the-art sports facility. It could prove a good place for you to prepare for your next gold medal."

"I…" she started to say, completely unsure how she would finish. Her eyes darted back and forth and she turned her head down. Before she could find anything to say, Jan's phone set off a notification. He pulled it out of the inner pocket of his jacket and gave it a quick glance before putting it away.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Laurito, but I have to go. His Highness is requesting me." He began to walk away, then stopped and turned back to her. "Please do not feel any stress over His Highness's invitation. There will be plenty of time for you to make a decision. Until then, please enjoy your breakfast and have a safe trip home." He flashed what had become his trademark smile at her, then began to walk away again.

"Jan," she called out to stop him. He halted immediately and turned on his heel.

"Yes, Miss Laurito?"

"Next time, call me Aria."

He smiled again, slowly. "Yes, Miss Laurito."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The neon lights of the casino machines flickered, promising prizes of all shapes and sizes. Whirring, sirens, and the clinking of coins was drowned out by the voices of the group of people in the center of the floor. Daphne found herself at the side of the group, her boyfriend's hockey arm over her shoulder. She pushed her hair out of her eyes as the laughter died down again.

"Then what happened?" asked a bleach-blonde with a new nose job. She was leaning forward on her own lap, her dress's neckline showing off her chest.

"Then? _Then_ the best part happened. I tell this little staff maid who knows probably as much about wine as she knows about taxes to get us a bottle of Cheval Blanc, and she gets all nervous and starts to scurry off, but this waiter is walking by with a tray, and she runs right into him!"

The laughter explodes among the group again, and Daphne finds herself chuckling, if only a little, lightly swinging her head to move the hair that had fallen into her vision again.

"The whole thing spilled all over her," the story continued, "she was covered in food and champagne!"

Daphne turned her attention to the flashing casino lights as her boyfriend's arm shook on her shoulder from his laughter. The same thing had happened to her once, when she was saving money for college. It's an embarrassing experience, and she felt bad for the girl, but from an outsider's perspective—she had to be honest—it probably was just a little funny.

"Oh, Your _Highness_ ," Blondie said, "you are _so_ funny. You tell stories better than anyone I know."

 _Is that because no one you know can_ remember _an entire story?_ Daphne thought as she watched the blonde flip her hair over her shoulder.

The prince puffed out his chest from the center of the group, and ran a practiced, carefree hand through his own hair. As it left the dusty brown locks, his emerald eyes lit up with a perfect smile. "It's who I am."

The girls around him giggled and Daphne let out a huff of air through her nose. If that wasn't the truth.

Before anyone could think up anymore flattery or insulting stories about the general public, a grayed man in a sharp suit came striding up to the group, his steps clicking elegantly.

"Your Highness," he bowed, "forgive the interruption, but the time of your birthday celebration is fast approaching, and we must go over final preparations with you. If you would please come upstairs to the ballroom."

"Yeah, alright." The prince shrugged his arms off the shoulders of the women sitting next to him and picked himself up from the couch. The butler bowed his head again as the prince walked past him, not bothering to say a goodbye to the group.

Daphne's boyfriend peeled his own arm from her shoulder. "I'm gonna go hit the slots, you want to come?"

"No," she shook her head lightly. "I think I'll head up to my room and relax for a while before the party starts."

"'Kay," he said, kissing her before he walked away. She watched the rest of the crowd disperse, finding herself alone on the large sectional, the clinging of the machines still ringing loudly in the smoke-filled room. She allowed herself to sit there for a moment, then removed herself from the couch.

She walked alone, through the casino, hearing the airy laughs of the people she had been sitting with and the clinking of glasses as they started the prince's birthday party early. As she climbed the stairs, the date ran through her mind. February 22nd. It used to be such a normal day.

The light of the hallway on the base floor was much brighter than the dim casino of the basement. She allowed her thick canopy of tight curls to shield her eyes from the sun pouring in the windows. She walked straight down the center of the hallway, counting the steps that it took her to clear each of the lush rugs, knowing very well where she was going.

Left, then a right, then another left… She passed maids and staff members with a friendly smile and hello, each one of them taking the time to call her by name. At the end of the hall, she found her room, and entered as if it belonged to her the same way her apartment did. She lay down on top of the neatly straightened covers, then flung the obscene pile of curls behind her head as she made herself comfortable.

The next thing she knew, her boyfriend was in her room, shaking her awake. She sat up quickly, narrowly missing bumping heads with him, when her mind cleared enough to take a glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes until the party started.

Scrambling out of the bed, she flung open her luggage, searching for the dress she'd planned to wear. She found it, grabbed her shoes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

There was no time to deal with her hair—maybe she could just pull the wild curls back into a ponytail. Working quickly, she pulled off her clothes and donned her favorite cocktail dress: classy and sexy, showing off the legs and arms that her years of gymnastics had awarded her. She pulled back her hair and left it, thinking it good enough due to her lack of time. Most people had this delusion about her hair being flawless, anyway, so no one was likely to notice the mess.

She put on her makeup with the speed of a cheetah in a footrace, lining her eyes and curling her lashes with smooth strokes. Her boyfriend's voice floated through the door with a thickening impatience. She rolled her eyes as she finished with her concealer and setting spray to make it all stick. She didn't bother to close it all back up as she flew from her bathroom and out her door, allowing her boyfriend to catch up.

The heels of her shoes clicked with a purpose as she sped to the ballroom. Being late for the prince's birthday wasn't a very good idea. Not that there were really any repercussions that came with it, besides snooty women and their judgmental eyes, which only the prince was immune from in the first place. She slowed her pace when she neared the ballroom, and her boyfriend slinked his arm around her waist. She took a steadying breath and they stepped inside together.

The ballroom was decorated in the typical, over-the-top, Alford family manner, with the chandeliers glistening brilliantly over the marble floors and extravagantly dressed guests. The windows flaunted their emerald curtains and gold linings, the stage in the back flaunted its set of enormous thrones, and the people flaunted their gaudy jewelry. Her boyfriend pressed his fingers into her waist and guided her to the nearest tray-carrying staff member. As he grabbed two flutes of champagne, Daphne's eyes drifted across the room, and met with a chocolate set accompanied by a Marilyn-Monroe-level beauty mark sitting atop a left cheekbone.

They belonged to a young man with copper-brown hair, shaved on the sides but growing long on the top, all flipped over to one side. For the sake of the party he wore a pristine tuxedo, but it sat stiff on him as he stood awkwardly behind the Alford family's head butler. His thin eyebrows rose slightly as he caught her gaze, and she watched the corners of his mouth tilt up in slow motion. Almost two years in coming to the Manse, and she hadn't seen him before.

"Daphne?"

Her boyfriend's voice alerted her to the fact that she'd been staring, and she snapped her eyes shut to break the trance. She looked up at him, finding confusion more than concern on his face.

"I just—" she found herself glancing back over to beauty-mark-boy, but he'd looked away. Her stomach sank and she shook her head, turning back to her boyfriend. "Nothing. Let's dance."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor, slipping her untouched flute of champagne onto the tray of a waiter passing by. Turning confidently to face him, she took her boyfriend's hand, pulling him into position for a waltz before he had time to think of it himself.

They danced, and with every turn she found herself looking back to the boy with dark chocolate eyes, and after a few steps, he caught her gaze again. He bit his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it failed, and he watched her dance, knowing she would be looking when the turn came around.

When the music stopped, they had locked eyes for the dozenth time, and his shoulders were shaking with his laughter. She inhaled, and his head turned quickly. Someone had called his name. He rushed away, and Daphne let out a breath. This was very bad.

"Daphne!"

She turned her head toward the familiar voice, quickly catching sight of the only other "celebrity couple" that she could stand to talk to. They rushed toward her—well, she rushed, but her boyfriend meandered—and wrapped her in a hug that crushed every bone in her back. When she was finally released, Daphne stretched her shoulders back, trying to regain control of her muscles.

"I'm _so_ glad I found you," the girl said. Maylie? Was that her name? "Isaac and I have been stuck with Laura all day, and I'm, like, ready to explode."

Ah. Blondie.

"Yeah, she's always a good time," Daphne said.

"By the way," Maylie stepped closer, dropping her voice. "Have you seen the new butler?" She shot a glance over Daphne's shoulder, and Daphne turned slightly to see what she was looking at. Their boyfriends had congregated behind them, discussing the upcoming hockey season.

"New butler?" she asked, just as low.

"Brown eyes, great hair, beauty mark?"

Daphne's heart skipped and she tried not to react in her face. "He's one of the butlers?"

Maylie nodded briskly, a smirk on her lips. "Isn't he _delicious_?"

 _He's certainly gorgeous_ , Daphne thought as she glanced back to where she last saw him, but he was still missing.

"Apparently he just finished the training required to actually start working with the royal family and their guests. He's been around, just not where we could see him."

Daphne nodded. "I knew I hadn't seen him before."

"Yeah, but we can see him now." She danced her head back and forth, and Daphne laughed.

"You better be careful how you talk. Remember how he got the last time." She gestured with her head to the boys behind her.

"Oh, he's not listening. Besides, he really needs to let go of that whole thing. I'm not leaving him."

Daphne smiled and turned her head back toward the center stage just in time to see the Alford family's head butler, Alick, step up to the microphone. He'd changed out of his usual suit to a tuxedo, just like new-butler-boy. His grayed hair was slicked elegantly over the top of his head, and his mustache was perfectly trim, as always. With his arms folded behind his back, he cleared his throat into the microphone.

"Welcome to the much anticipated 21st birthday celebration of His Royal Highness, Prince Keith Alford." The ballroom quieted around them as Alick's dignified voice rolled out of the speakers. "We are glad you could join us to commemorate this momentous time in our prince's life. His Highness will choose a partner to dance with shortly, but first, His Majesty would like to speak."

Shuffling commenced on the side of the stage, and Alick removed himself to the back. Liberty's king made himself front and center, standing stiff in extravagant robes, hard lines over every one of his features. His deep, growling voice began to fill the air, but Daphne's attention was torn away when Maylie elbowed her in the side. Before she had time to ask, Maylie used her eyes to gesture to the side of the stage that the king had appeared from.

The new butler had returned, and he looked rather nervous standing next to the other members of the royal family. His face was turned down, and even from the distance Daphne could feel him fidgeting. Laughter around her reminded her that the king was still giving his speech, and she turned her attention back to the stage, but it was a pointless effort. She watched his mouth move, but heard no sound coming from it, and constantly she caught herself looking back to the uneasy newcomer of the staff.

 _This is getting ridiculous,_ she noted to herself, forcing her eyes onto the king. Finally, his speech ended with a call for applause, and the room erupted. The prince rounded the front of the stage, and the single women in the room rushed—sorry, _hastened_ —toward it. Maylie placed her hands on her hips.

"Look who's at the front of the crowd."

"I see it. She's certainly good at putting herself in his eyesight, isn't she?"

"Doesn't really look like he minds, though."

The two of them watched the prince take Blondie's hand and lead her away from the group. The rest of the crowd dispersed, looking rather despondent, and coupled up with the men they'd come to the party with.

"What a sad thing, having to go back to someone who maybe actually cares about you after a self-centered asshole didn't think you were prettier than another self-centered asshole." Daphne tilted her head and pressed her lips together in fake pity.

"Ooh, the judgment is strong with this one," Maylie said. Daphne widened her eyes and wagged her eyebrows, tilting her chin up. The two of them laughed quietly, watching couples form around the dancefloor. Daphne found her eyes wandering again to the side of the stage and her boyfriend's voice kicked into life again as the music started.

"And you're one to talk," Maylie said, nudging her again.

"What?"

She jutted her chin out. "Butler boy is back."

"Yeah," Daphne said, "I noticed."

"Uh huh, I noticed you noticing." Maylie placed a hand under her chin, giving Daphne a very pointed smile.

Daphne's mouth opened, then closed again. She looked away from her friend's face, her jaw working back and forth, her hands opening and closing. Now would be a good time to give a well-thought out, point-disproving statement, but she had none prepared.

"Did you hear a single word of the king's speech?" Maylie asked her. Daphne scoffed and shifted her weight.

"Of course I did."

"Uh huh. And what did he say?"

"He—"

"And what's your boyfriend's favorite color again?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"You've got a crush on the new butler," she sang, a smug smile dancing onto her face.

"I do not," Daphne said, trying not to pay attention that it was too quick of a comeback.

"Yeah, that's not denial. Not that I blame you. There is something about him."

Daphne grabbed a new flute of champagne off a passing waiter's tray. "You are very clearly delusional." She took a long swig of her drink. "Besides, did you see the way he was fidgeting? Not exactly what I would consider attractive."

"Uh, no, I didn't," Maylie said, grabbing her own champagne from the waiter's tray. "So clearly someone was paying more attention to him than I was."

"Whatever. The point is it isn't cute."

"Sure." She shrugged. "And since it was so uncute the fact that he's walking straight for us should bother you not at all."

"What?"

Maylie gestured with her glass. Alick was striding purposefully over to them, the click of his steps drowned out by the music in the room, and the new butler looked like he was having trouble keeping up with his superior. As they closed in, Alick's steps slowed to a peaceful stop.

"Miss Petrou," he said, giving a light bow, "it's nice to see you again."

"Likewise, Alick," she said, trying to focus on his face rather than the outline of the man behind him.

"I have someone I would like to introduce you and Miss Beltran to." He turned around and ushered the younger man to step forward. Daphne heard Maylie giggle as he stumbled. When he caught himself, his eyes locked with Daphne's, and a faint trace of red crept up his face.

"This is my grandson. He will be starting his work as an apprentice butler tomorrow," Alick continued.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ladies," he said, his voice clear as a bell with just enough brass to make it interesting.

"The pleasure is ours," Maylie said.

Daphne had opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what it was she was about to say, when the air around her became stifled. A slight twist of her head showed her boyfriend's presence directly behind her, and Isaac had taken the same position behind Maylie. Apparently, the new butler's voice had snapped the two of them out of their intense discussion and they had decided to return to acknowledging their girlfriends.

"Maylie, let's dance," Isaac said, every muscle in his body tense.

"Isaac—"

"Come on." He took her arm and lead her out onto the dance floor, while Maylie distinctly rolled her eyes so everyone else could see and gave a lazy goodbye wave.

"We should dance, too," Daphne's boyfriend said, reaching out for her, but she pulled her arm away.

"That would be rude. We're trying to have a friendly conversation."

"You aren't talking."

"Yes, because you decided to enter a discussion that was not meant for you." She turned away to see Alick's grandson smiling. Her breath caught in her chest—again—and a part of her mind cursed the boy. Her boyfriend scoffed behind her, but she paid him no mind.

"Do not let us get in the way of your enjoyment of the evening, Miss Petrou," Alick said.

"You're not doing anything of the sort," Daphne said, switching her empty glass with the full one her boyfriend was holding. "I can't, however, say the same for him." She tilted her head back toward her boyfriend.

"So suddenly I'm the bad guy?"

"I'm going to let the fact that that doesn't make any sense go and just jump to 'yes, you are.'"

His nostrils flared and he huffed a "fine" before storming off, and she didn't even bother to watch him go. She began sipping on her new glass of champagne and watched Alick's grandson smile as her boyfriend retreated. Her tongue found the last drops of alcohol on her lips as she adjusted her posture, fixing her gaze on the new butler.

"And what are you so smiley about?"

The question had come out of nowhere, and had rolled harsher out of her mouth than she had intended it to, but it caught the new butler's attention, as petrification painted itself all over his face. Alick gave him a stern glare, and he shrunk back.

"Miss Petrou—" Alick started to say, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"It's fine. He deserved it. I'm just saying it's something you might want to train yourself out of doing if this is going to be your profession." She'd gone to watching the couples on the dance floor, unable to look either of them in the eye any longer.

"You are absolutely right, Miss Petrou," Alick said, "and it is something we will work on. However, it is time for us to be taking our leave, as there are things we must attend to. I hope you will enjoy the rest of your evening quite thoroughly."

She turned just in enough time to watch the two of them bow lightly and leave, and then she was alone. And she didn't thoroughly enjoy much of anything other than the alcohol for the rest of the evening. With her boyfriend gone, there was no one to dance with, other than strangers, and she was left feeling a little irritated.

She eventually found a chair and downed probably three-too-many glasses of champagne, prompted by the memory of Maylie's jokes and her boyfriend's attitude. Her own behavior hadn't been much better, which made everything worse. After a while, Maylie wandered over to her table.

"You're a hot mess."

"I'm fine."

"Are not."

"Am so."

"Come on, we should go." Maylie gently took her arm and managed to lead her out of the ballroom before she shrugged her away.

"I can walk on my own."

"Daphne."

"I'm fine. I don't need help." She strutted by herself down the hall, and didn't turn around once, knowing Maylie was watching. She was not in love with the new butler, and she was not in need of an escort. She was going to go back to her room—by herself—and getting a nice night of sleep.

She turned confidently down the nearest hall made it a few dozen steps before her pace slowed. Her head was spinning, and for the first time in two years all of the hallways were looking the same. Pressing her eyes closed hard, her thoughts rang: _I am not lost. I am not lost. I am not lost._

"Having trouble, Miss Petrou?" said a voice behind her, pronouncing it "pet-row."

"Petr _ou,_ " she corrected, clipping the "t" and ending it "oo." She turned around and came face-to-face with her nightmare.

The evening lights delicately falling into the hallway lit him up like a night faery as he leaned against the window. The bowtie was undone, the vest and top of the shirt unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled sloppily to the elbows. His jacket was draped over one of the wrists that was deep in his pockets, and those chocolate eyes watched her every breath between a cocked eyebrow and a beauty mark.

"And no."

He nodded slowly. "Your room's in the opposite direction."

"I know." She turned on her heel and resumed her assured hobble.

"You look incredibly inebriated."

She scoffed, not turning around. "Don't be ridiculous."

The hallway was quiet behind her just long enough to make her stop walking, before:

"Have I… done something to offend you, Miss Petrou?"

She sighed, finally turning around again and looking him in the eye. "No. That's not it."

He didn't seem convinced. "Well, if there's anything I can help you with, let me know."

"I don't—" she stopped, knowing she was about to tell another unnecessary lie. "You could start by telling me your name. So I don't have to call you Rolly Sleeves."

A smile slowly pulled itself onto his face, like it had earlier that night; the first time he'd been charming. "Luke."

"Well, Luke, maybe I am a little… tipsy. So it would be helpful if you could guide me to my room."

He laughed lightly. "Of course, Miss Petrou."

He stepped toward her and offered his arm, moving his jacket from one wrist to the other. She accepted his help, if reluctantly, and they slowly began their way to her room. There was silence until they rounded the first corner, then he spoke.

"My grandfather seems to know you well."

She shrugged. "I come around every once in a while. The royal family lets me use their facility for gymnastics, and there really isn't a good gym where I live."

"I would think you'd be around more than every once in a while," he said, slowing his pace again as she faltered. "You train daily, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, but I'd practically have to live here to use their facility that often."

"Would that be so bad?"

She caught his mumble just barely, and she looked up to his face. His focus was heavily on the hallway ahead of them, but there was something gentle, almost regal, about the rest of his features. Ahead of them, rather obnoxious shuffling was audible, falling out of a half-open door.

"So," she said, knowing the room was hers and that her boyfriend was inside. "Is Luke short for Lucas?"

A chuckle surfaced from his chest at the silly question. "No, actually, it's not. Not quite."

They stopped a few steps from the door, and he pulled his arm away. She turned in time to watch him bow slowly.

"Well, Miss Petrou, I hope I will see you the next time you pay us a visit."

The hallway lights made his eyes shine, or maybe it was something else, but she said the first thing she could think of.

"You will."

He smiled at her one final time before offering a simple "good night" and walking away. Leaning up against the wall for support, she watched. He walked differently than his grandfather, not quite as proper, but somehow important and powerful in his own right. She rolled around and let her back land fully on the wall. She inhaled, not wanting to walk into her room, not wanting to have the fight with her boyfriend that was surely coming, not wanting to leave the moment.

But she did anyway.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"I did the dumbest thing the other day."

Esmerie glanced up from her phone to see her roommate strolling through the archway, twisting her mountain of tight chocolate curls into a bun.

"Yeah?" she asked, turning her attention back to the video she was watching. Daphne landed heavily in the chair across from her at the dining table.

"Have you ever met a guy that was literally so beautiful that all you can do is hate him?"

Esmerie frowned and paused the video. She lifted her head slowly, running her tongue along her teeth. "Yeah…"

"And we all know that you don't let the hatred show, because he'll think you're crazy?"

"Uh huh…"

"Well, it turns out I'm really shitty at that."

Esmerie pulled on her bottom lip with her teeth, trying to find something useful to say. Daphne laid her head on the table and dropped her hands into her lap, sighing.

"Did…" she started to say, dancing on the phrasing, "how bad was it?"

"I don't know," Daphne said, not bothering to lift her face from the wood, "but we talked after the party."

"Did he seem upset with you?"

Daphne's head popped off the table. "Surprisingly, no."

"Then why are you worried about it?"

Daphne opened her mouth and closed it again, her face scrunching up. Esmerie watched and waited, until her roommate eventually gave up and placed her forehead back on the table. She laughed in silence and returned to her video. A few minutes managed to slip by before Daphne lifted her head again.

"Don't you have somewhere to be today?"

"Mhm," Esmerie responded, not looking up. "Wrap party for the movie."

"When do you have to be there?"

"Couple hours," she shrugged, "so I'm gonna try and finish this before I get ready."

"Well, then I guess I'll shut up and get out of your way."

Esmerie smiled as Daphne left the table, heading to the pantry to find breakfast. She let the video finish, then closed the tab and got up herself, wandering away while Daphne made her daily smoothie.

She walked down the hall and up the stairs of the apartment, pulling herself in a hard right using the end of the banister. She pushed the door to her room open, and quickly crossed the room and dropped the blinds. Her closet door was open, with the dress that she'd picked to wear sitting in front: a maxi dress with a scalloped bib neck and all-over navy lace, a satin waist sash and trumpet skirt. Daphne had suggested it, since it was long the way Esmerie liked, and hugged her curves just enough to flatter her.

She pulled it off the hanger slowly, not wanting to damage anything. As she changed, she sighed. She'd much rather stay home. It wasn't that she didn't want to go to the wrap party, they were always a good time, but they had been filming for the past several months, and she was tired.

She made her way into the bathroom to get a look at herself in the dress. She pressed it down around her hips, flattening the creases, then started tousling her hair, trying to decide what she wanted to do with it.

"Do you want me to do it for you?" Daphne's head had popped into the door of Esmerie's bathroom. She turned around for a moment, knowing that her response didn't matter. Daphne always helped her with her hair.

She dropped her hands back to her sides. "Sure."

Daphne entered the room fully, bringing the last half of her breakfast smoothie with her and setting it on the sink counter. She stood behind Esmerie for a minute, tilting her head back and forth as she pondered. When she'd made her decision, she opened the drawer that held the beauty supplies. She pulled out bobby pins and hair ties, then began her work.

She pulled the back bulk of Esmerie's hair up, allowing a few strands to fall down around her face. She twisted the rest expertly, then used a tie to hold it in place. She placed bobby pins and pulled strands out of the bun simultaneously, creating the perfect blend of relaxed and sophisticated. Then, she rounded Esmerie's body and began pulling at her bangs, fluffing them and shaping them so they laid gently across her forehead and framed her face.

"There," she said, stepping back. "Perfect."

Esmerie laughed, using one finger to gently flick her bangs out of her eyes. "Thanks, Daphne."

"Uh huh," Daphne said, having already grabbed hold of the smoothie and exited the bathroom.

Esmerie glided back into her bedroom and sat herself down on her bed, sighing. Getting dressed hadn't taken as long as she'd hoped. _Make-up_ , she realized, and found herself back in the bathroom. She pulled out her regular make-up, nudes and a brown liner. She wasn't much for getting dolled up, but especially for a party, she wanted to look nice.

She took her time, and right about when she was satisfied with her work, her phone dinged from its place on her mattress. She put her make-up away and crossed the room threshold to check it. The friend that was acting as her chauffer to the party had arrived and was waiting in the car outside her apartment building.

Grabbing her purse and shoes, she made her way purposefully down the stairs, calling a goodbye to Daphne as she opened the door of the apartment.

"Have fun!" She heard as the door closed behind her.

She put her shoes on in the hall, then sent a text to her friend as she carefully descended the building's main stairs. High heels may look beautiful, but that's about all they're good for. Eventually, she reached the bottom and left the building, not wasting any time in joining her friend in the car.

They spent the drive to the hotel trading chat about the upcoming party, how they were glad they were done filming, and about the excitement of seeing the movie hit theaters, but the drive ended quickly, and they found themselves climbing into the hotel elevator.

The ballroom on the 20th floor was packed, everyone from actors to sound technicians loitering with their beverages of choice. Long tables with satin cloths lined the far wall, towered with food and refreshments. Esmerie found herself immediately abandoned when her ride ran off to join some members of the effects team. She wandered to the tables, picked up a glass of wine, and was browsing the food choices when Maxim joined her.

"Well, I just heard some interesting news," he said, grabbing some food from the display plate.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Someone said that Prince—" He was cut off by the crowd hushing, everyone turning toward the door, where the Prince of Charles had just walked in, wearing a stunning white suit that accentuated his platinum blond hair. His violet eyes lit up as he smiled—gently, but genuine—and he crossed the room leisurely, saying hello to everyone there.

"What is the prince doing here?" She asked Maxim in a whisper.

"Not a clue. But he's been talking to everyone, congratulating them."

"Congratulating them?" she asked, but he only gave her a shrug. She turned back to watch the prince proceed through the crowd, when their eyes locked. He smiled wider, holding out his hands.

"There, the stars of the show," he said in a voice like summer wind over a grassy plain. He strode toward them, like his feet weren't touching the floor. With the smoothest of movements, he took Esmerie's hand in his own and kissed her knuckles.

" _la femme exquise_ ," he said in that voice. Heat crept up Esmerie's cheeks.

"Your Highness," someone behind the prince said, "you are making the lady shy."

Esmerie glanced over the prince's bowed head to find the source and came face to face with a man she could've sworn she'd seen before, but couldn't place where. He stood perfectly straight in his three-piece suit, a subtle green vest and tie, navy eyes and black hair that waved out just enough to make his face visible. His attention was focused on the prince more than anyone else, but he caught Esmerie's gaze.

"Louis is right, Miss Brodeur. I am sorry." The prince stood back up and gave her another of his charming smiles.

"Oh," she said, snapping her attention back to him. "It's not a problem, Your Highness. I'm simply not used to such compliments."

"I find that difficult to believe, mademoiselle. A flower as remarkable as yours must certainly be admired during every hour of daylight."

Esmerie blinked a couple of times, not sure how to respond.

"Your Highness," the man named Louis sighed.

"All right, Louis," the prince said, waving his hand. "I simply wanted to come by and give the both of you my sincerest congratulations on the film. It is such a magnificent depiction of one of our country's most beloved folktales, and I am overjoyed to see it carried on to the next generation of our people. Surely, you will be remembered for decades to come for your sensational talent."

"That's quite a compliment, Your Highness, thank you." Maxim said, and it was then that Esmerie remembered that he was there. She watched as he shook the hand of the prince, then excused himself to a different group of people at the party. That left her once again in the attention of the prince and his butler, and she readjusted her weight, trying to stand up straight and look comfortable at the same time.

"So tell me, mademoiselle," the prince said, "what is it you are planning on doing next?" He gave her another smile, apparently missing how much she was surprised by the question, but eventually she found her tongue.

"I… not much, really," she lost eye contact with him as she realized how dull her life must seem to someone like him. "I teach at the University of Nobel Michel, so now that the film is finished, I'll go back to that full time."

"That's marvelous," he said. "What is it you teach?"

"Pottery and similar arts. Though the university occasionally asks me to teach the beginning courses of Charlesian language when they have a surge in interest."

"You are so incredibly versatile, mademoiselle. Just like my Louis." He turned to look at his butler, whose dark blue eyes had widened slightly. Apparently, he had not anticipated being brought into the conversation.

"Louis does so much for me on a daily basis," the prince continued. "and yet he still finds time for his own hobbies. Only yesterday he told me that he plans on helping out at a local orphanage come the spring."

"That's wonderful," Esmerie said without thinking. "I've been considering some volunteer work myself, once spring break hits."

"Why don't you join Louis? The orphanage would no doubt enjoy the extra help."

"I—"

"Your Highness!"

Esmerie's shock and Louis's protest overlapped, but the prince's face lit up, thrilled with his brilliant idea.

"From Charles's fairytale princess, no less! What a benefit for the organization, not only to be blessed with your grace, but your beauty and your kindness. Undoubtedly, the children would enjoy meeting and playing with the real Lady of the Ashes."

"Your Highness, please don't make the lady's decisions for her," Louis finally found time to chime in to the prince's daydream.

"I am merely suggesting a solution to her problem, Louis," the prince said, taking her hand once again with a flourish. "So what say you, my lady?"

"I—" Once again, she found herself without words, baffled by what the prince considered to be a problem worth solving. She glanced up and met the butler's eyes one more time, deep and unmoving. If there was a part of him that didn't want her to agree, she couldn't find it. Nor could she find an excuse to turn the offer down. "I would be honored, if Louis and the staff would have me."

"And you, dear Louis?" the prince asked, turning to face his butler.

He looked slightly exasperated, but eventually let out a light sigh. "Of course we would be glad for you to assist, Miss Brodeur."

"Excellent!" The prince turned back to her, beaming. "Then Louis will contact you with details, I am sure. In the meantime, sweet princess, I'm afraid I must depart. I have an unfortunately tight schedule today."

"Of course, Your Highness," she said, dipping into a curtsy, which was rather awkward in her tight dress. He gave her one more gentle smile, then turned around.

"Come, Louis, let us go." He strode away, just as elegantly as he had come in.

She watched him walk for a moment, both entranced and slightly glad. The prince had his way, but he was one of a kind. When the butler took a step toward her, she broke out of her trance. He retrieved a pen and a small notepad from his breast pocket and held them out to her.

"I will need your contact information, Miss Brodeur."

"Oh, right." She took the items from him, and quickly scrawled her phone number and e-mail address down.

"I apologize for His Highness," he whispered as she was writing.

She glanced up at him. "Oh, it's not a big deal. I just hope that you weren't inconvenienced in any way, Louis."

"Of course not, mademoiselle." He smiled for the first time, and his navy eyes sparkled. "As long as you and His Highness are happy, it does not matter what I feel." He accepted the pen and paper back with a simple "thank you," then he bowed to her and walked after the prince with hastened steps.

Only after he was out of her sight did she realize she'd stopped breathing.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Almost a month had gone by, and Spring Break was finally upon her. As had been promised, she'd received extra information from Louis, including what time he would be by her apartment to pick her up. She was surprised he'd even remembered, honestly. She was surprised she'd met him at all.

"Essie," Daphne called, leaning in the window. "Your ride's here."

Esmerie joined her and looked down to the front of the building. A sleek, simple town car sat at the curb, and the driver's side door opened. Louis climbed out, not wearing the suit she'd met him in, but rather a long-sleeve, button-up shirt, and a pair of dark jeans. Though his clothes were casual, he still stood with his air of propriety.

"I'd go meet him if I were you," Daphne said under raised eyebrows. Esmerie's attention returned to her surroundings, and she rushed to grab her purse.

"I'll see you later," she called as she left the apartment. She trotted down the stairs, much more comfortable in her flats than she had been in her heels, and by the time she reached the second landing, she had caught up with Louis.

She knew that because she nearly ran into him.

"Louis!" she said as she stopped herself short. "I'm so sorry!"

"Please do not apologize, Miss Brodeur," he said with the smile she remembered from the party. "Are you ready for the orphanage?"

"Uh, yeah." She slung the strap of her purse across her body. "I wasn't really sure what to bring."

"There isn't anything in particular you will need. Please, come with me." He led her down the rest of the stairs and out the front door of her building. The town car she'd seen from her window waited patiently, glistening in the sunlight. Louis approached it without breaking stride and opened the door to the back open for her.

"Please, Miss Brodeur," he said. She stared for a moment, unsure how to proceed, and unsure how to mention she felt a little awkward sitting in the back of a car that only had one other person in it.

Eventually, she gave in and climbed into the back of the car. Louis shut the door behind her and rounded the car to enter the driver's seat. He didn't waste any time in starting the vehicle and pulling away from the curb. Esmerie watched the town pass by while she sat tense in the backseat. When a traffic light stopped them, Louis spoke.

"You look lovely today, Miss Brodeur."

Her eyes popped open and she glanced down at her blue jeans and off-the-shoulder floral top in sky blue. She fussed with the sleeve's elastic around her wrist and caught his eye in the rearview mirror. The deep blue was shimmering in the morning sunlight.

"Thank you, Louis, but it really isn't anything special."

He smiled at her. "If you say so, Miss Brodeur."

She tried desperately not to blush, pulling a blonde curl from her ponytail to wrap around her finger as she turned her attention back to the window. They began moving again and Louis resumed focusing on driving.

The streets got rougher and the buildings sagged as if tired as they headed toward the outskirts of the city. She watched a small child walk down the sidewalk with her parents, holding their hands, a skip in her step, when suddenly the little girl's dark hair turned blonde. Esmerie turned away sharply, clutching at her elbows with her fingertips.

"Is everything alright, Miss Brodeur?" Louis's voice came from the front seat, and she reacted, looking up.

"Oh, uh… Yeah," she tried to sound definitive. "Everything's fine." She dared to turn her head to the window again, now that the family was gone, but she felt naked as she watched a piece of brick fall off the front of a building.

"Are you certain?" Louis asked her.

"Yeah, no, I just…" She tried to find a way to change the subject while pulling her focus back inside the car. "I was just thinking it might be better if you call me Esmerie."

"I beg your pardon?"

They stopped at another traffic light and Louis turned slightly in his seat.

"It's just that… You calling me 'Miss Brodeur' all the time makes it sound like you're working for me. But you're not. We're both volunteers."

"Yes, that's true, but—"

"I just think it's best if we acknowledge that we're on equal ground. Otherwise the energy will be odd around the children. And they're very sensitive to those things."

She dared to look him in the eye, but he didn't seem perplexed by her argument. Instead, he seemed to be seriously considering it, and he turned back around in his seat right as the light turned green.

"Very well, Miss Brodeur. When we get to the orphanage, we will be on equal ground. However, until then I'm afraid I must be stubborn." He looked at her again through the rearview mirror. "Because as of right now, I _am_ working for you."

She smiled back at him and stared absently at the seat in front of her, not comfortable looking out the window any longer, until the car began to slow. They pulled up to the front of a low-rise building with peeling siding and shingles missing from the roof. A rusting playground sat to one side, with safety fences around it that were nearly falling over. Louis stopped the car and let himself out, and before she knew it he was opening her door.

She stepped out of the car in slow motion, taking her time to fully absorb the orphanage without the window obstructing her view. The shutters on the windows were crisp and new, and the trim around the building had the chalky quality of freshly dried paint. Petunias and poppies danced around the edges of hydrangea bushes planted up against the porch, all proudly displaying their vibrant colors.

"Please come with me, Miss Brodeur."

Louis's voice caught her off guard, and she took a step before the words fully processed. She stopped in her tracks and gave Louis a pointed stare. He turned back to her with furrowed eyebrows.

"You promised," she said, and his eyes lit up in understanding.

"You're right. I apologize." He watched his own feet shuffle for a moment before looking her in the eye again. "Esmerie."

Holding back a laugh at how much he looked like a nervous teenaged boy, she followed him through the front door of the orphanage.

Hallways spread out on either side, leading to she didn't know where. Dusty paint covered the walls, scratches and scuffs littered the floor, and water stains dotted the drop ceilings almost in a pattern. One door stood in shadows at the end of the hall to her left, and directly in front of her was a windowed office. Inside, two men were in heated debate, arms flailing and muffled yelling bouncing off the glass walls. Esmerie glanced over to Louis for help, but he stood steely faced as he watched the argument unfold. She turned back to watch it herself.

"Let me give you a tour of the orphanage," Louis said suddenly, looking down one of the hallways. She considered him for a moment, watching the muscle in his jaw work.

"Alright," she said finally. He began walking down the hallway to the right, the lack of light not seeming to bother him in the slightest.

The emergency lights overhead made for an eerie setting, but they were strong in the light they produced. As they made their way down the hallway, she began to hear noises. They turned a soft corner, and she noticed doors propped open, and the elated screams of small children pouring out. She stretched her neck toward the open doorway, trying to see inside the room.

"The gymnasium," Louis told her. "This building used to be a school, but the royal family gave it to the director of the orphanage when his previous building was torn down."

"Why can't I see inside the gym from here?"

Louis shrugged slightly. "The doors lead right into the walls that make up the bleachers. You'd need to round that corner to be able to see anything inside." He motioned with his finger to where the narrow doorway would open up to the full room. Esmerie stepped toward it, but Louis had other plans, turning down the adjacent hallway.

"I was hoping to show you the rest of the building before introducing you to the children," he said.

"Oh," she replied ingeniously. "Sure."

She followed him down the next hall, passing doors with little windows, all dark on the inside. She made a game of swerving around the patterned water stains on the ceiling, making the trip slightly more exciting. They neared the end of the hallway, and she could tell it opened out to the right again.

"This is the cafeteria," Louis told her. "And in front of us is the outer door that leads to the playground."

"Okay," she said, remembering the worn jungle-gym she'd seen when they pulled up.

"Would you like to go outside?"

She glanced at him, her mouth slightly open. "Yeah."

He pushed open the door, and they made their way out into the yard. She shielded her eyes against the harsh contrast of the sun as she took in the playground. Cement covered the majority of the space, with a wood border separating the jungle-gym section. Even in the morning sunlight, it looked cold and dark. Louis stood next to her, saying nothing, and she finally found the courage to ask what she'd been wondering since they arrived.

"Is that playset safe?"

He didn't look at her, but he tilted his head slightly. "It could use an update. But the staff is very attentive while the children are playing on it, so they don't hurt themselves."

"They try really hard around here, don't they?"

He looked at her, the sunlight bouncing off his irises. He didn't say anything for a while, but she watched as his expressions molded from shock to confusion, before settling on a soft admiration when he turned his attention back to the rusting equipment.

"I'm glad you noticed."

She tucked her hands into the crook of her elbows. "It's pretty easy to see, I think. Everything's old, but they've been working on updates. I love that they care that much."

"They care more than that much," he said, barely audibly. Then, he inhaled. "Let's head back to the office and see if the director is free."

He led her to the other side of the playground, where another set of doors led them back inside. They walked silently down the dark hall, lined with more doors with little windows at the tops. They passed the door at the end that she'd seen when they entered the orphanage, and she peeked in the window to see a wonderfully expansive library inside.

By now, they'd circled back to the front of the orphanage and approached the front office. The argument was over, and a lone man sat at the desk toward the back, resting his head on his forearm. Esmerie exchanged glances with Louis, and he lifted his hand slowly to knock.

The moment his knuckles tapped the glass, the man in the office looked up, locked eyes with Louis, and beckoned them to enter. Louis held the door open, and Esmerie stepped hesitantly inside. When the door clicked closed behind them, the director spoke.

"Good morning, Louis."

"Good morning, sir," Louis replied, nodding his head.

Silence settled around them, and Esmerie tried to examine the office discreetly to disperse the awkward feeling. It was fairly spacious, unsurprisingly, if it was originally designed for a school, with the director's desk taking up a majority of the space near the back wall. Stacks of papers were strewn all over the top, and an empty coffee cup sat uncomfortably close to the edge. Large potted plants stood next to the door, and a couple of sitting chairs filled the excess space. It was an office, surely, but it felt like a room in someone's home.

"Sir, if I may," Louis said, breaking the silence, but the director stopped him.

"Don't worry about it, Louis, it's nothing new." His voice was tired, and it took a moment for Esmerie to realize they were talking about the argument that she and Louis had witnessed when walking in. She stole a glance at Louis, who looked rather defeated.

"So," the director spoke again, placing his hands on his desk and standing. "You must be Esmerie."

She started at the sudden address, thinking she really needed to fix that habit, then said, "yes, sir, I am."

"Well, it is wonderful to meet you." He extended his hand and she shook it. "We appreciate your enthusiasm in volunteering. It's nice to have an extra set of hands around here."

"Oh, please, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing." The director pointed at her, a friendly but firm stare in his eyes. "Most people spend their free time on a couch somewhere. You're not. It's a big deal."

"Sir," Louis sighed the way he did when the prince got carried away by his daydream.

"Roland," the director said, his finger-point turning on Louis. "You're not one of my kids anymore, Louis. Use my name."

"One of your kids?" Esmerie asked before she could stop herself. The men stopped and looked at her. Louis went back to his teenaged boy habit and inhaled deeply.

"Yes." He caught her eyes dead-on. "The old orphanage that Roland used to run, the one that was torn down… was where I lived before I met His Highness. The royal family took me in as an apprentice, and they moved the orphanage here."

Esmerie studied Louis's face, finding every emotion inside it. But he didn't flinch. His shyness was gone, and his posture was stronger than ever.

"They are very kind people, aren't they, Louis? The Levancois."

The sparkle slowly returned to his eyes, and he smiled. "Yes."

"Well, I would leave you two alone, but this is my office, so I'm afraid I'm just going to have to ask you to continue this on your own time."

Esmerie broke eye contact with Louis and looked back at the director, confused. His arms were crossed, and a playful glint sat in the corner of his eye. When realization dawned on her, she felt the heat of a blush make its way to her cheeks.

"Yes, sir," Louis said from beside her, seemingly unphased by Roland's joke.

"Good." The director sat back down in his desk chair. "Have you met any of the children yet, Esmerie?"

"Uh—no," she said, standing up a little straighter. The director nodded his head.

"Well, then, I suggest you take a trip to the gymnasium."

"Yes, sir," she and Louis said simultaneously. Louis turned around and exited the room before her, holding the door as she passed through. They retraced their previous path through the orphanage, turning the corner, heading to the gym.

"I'm sorry about the director," Louis told her as they approached the pool of light spilling out of the double doors.

"What do you mean?"

"His comment… About us…"

"Oh!" she said slightly more enthusiastic than she meant to. "It's alright, Louis, he was just kidding."

He hesitated, nodding his head slowly. "Right. You're right."

They stopped right in the doorway of the gymnasium, the screams of the children playing games almost overwhelming in comparison to the garish silence of the surrounding hallways.

"Are you ready?"

She inhaled deeply. "Yes, absolutely."

He smiled. "You don't need to looks so tense. They are going to love you."

She smiled back. "Then let's go."

Several hours later, as the sun began to set, Esmerie stood next to the rusted playground equipment, running her fingers over the pieces that were breaking. The children didn't seem to mind, and as she watched them, they jumped over the places where the structure was less stable, and the older ones called out to the younger ones where not to put their hands. They'd adapted to their situation, and they managed to flourish.

"Alright, everyone!" She heard one of the orphanage's staff members yell over the voices of the children. "It's time to come inside!"

She walked around the playset and helped some of the smaller children jump down, holding their hands as they walked back to the building. One of them yawned, and she smiled.

"Are you ready for bed?"

The little boy shook his head. "No. I'm not that tired."

She pressed her lips together, still smiling. "Mhm."

"Besides," one of the little girls holding hands with her said, "it's too scary to go to sleep."

"What do you mean?"

"The monster," the other little girl said, her brown curls shuddering with the rest of her.

"There's a monster?" Esmerie asked. The children shook their heads unanimously.

"A ghost," the little boy said, sure of himself. "In the room right next to ours."

"A ghost is hardly a monster," Esmerie said. "Has it ever been mean to you? Or anyone?"

"It attacked me!" The first little girl pulled on her hand. "I left something in our room one day and went back to get it, and it ran right at me! It threw itself on my head! I couldn't see!"

Esmerie's eyes narrowed. _That doesn't sound like something a spirit would do._

"Yeah!" the girl with curls joined in, "One time I woked up in, like, the middle of the night! And I went to go to the bathroom, and I heard banging, and then I saw it, too, and it came running at me, and I was so scared I ran back into my room."

"Have you told anybody about it?" Esmerie asked. The children shook their heads.

"There's nothing the grown-ups can do," the little boy said. "It's a ghost, and it's here to kill us."

"Oh, I don't think that's true," Esmerie said as they caught up with the rest of the employees and children. "More often than not, spirits get scared because you're scared. Next time you see it, just stay calm, and be nice. It may surprise you and be friendly in return."

"No it won't!" the little boy cried.

"You won't know until you try," Esmerie told him. "I had a ghost in my house when I was little. At first I was very scared of her, but later I found out she was a very nice lady. One time, there was a mean man trying to get into our house, and she pushed a vase off the shelf next to the door. It scared him so much he left us alone."

"Wow," the little brunette said, staring at her in earnest. "She really did that?"

"Yep, and she helped me with a lot of other things, too. She would often comfort me when I was sad."

"That doesn't sound like something a ghost would do," the other little girl said.

"Oh, no, it's actually very common for spirits to be kind. But you need to be nice to them, too. Otherwise you scare them."

"What are you all talking about?"

Esmerie turned around to see Louis striding toward her. It was then that she noticed that the other staff members had already re-entered the building, and they were alone on the playground.

"Miss Essie is telling us about the ghost that was in her house when she was little!" one of the little girls said, though Esmerie couldn't distinguish which one the voice belonged to. She watched Louis's eyebrows go up.

"She is?"

"Yeah," the little boy said, "she's trying to tell us that ghosts can be nice."

"Well," Louis said, looking up at her. "Miss Esmerie is very wise. I'm sure she wouldn't tell you that if she didn't believe it to be true."

Esmerie's head ducked into her shoulders. "I just didn't want them to go to bed afraid of the ghost they've seen in the hall."

"There's a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah!" the children said, talking over one another to give Louis their personal paranormal accounts.

"All right, all right," Louis said, trying to calm them down. "We'll worry about that in the morning. For now, let's get you to bed. And if you get scared, just remember that you're safe from the ghost as long as you're together."

"Are you going to bring in your violin tomorrow, Louis?" the little girl with brown curls asked.

"Yeah, are you?" the other little girl chimed in. "I wanna hear you play violin!"

"I don't think we'll have time for that tomorrow," he said, "but maybe sometime later in the week we can squeeze it in."

The children smiled, and he ushered them into the building. On the inside hallway, a female staff member paced the corridor, one hand in her hair, one hand on her hip. She checked her watch every couple of steps, but stopped when they walked in.

"Oh, there they are! I thought I'd miscounted, or that we'd lost children. Thank you. I'll get them to bed." She took the children's hands and disappeared with them into to one of the former classrooms.

"Well, that was convenient," Esmerie said, placing her hands on her hips.

Louis chuckled. "They're used to running the orphanage without us, so they're very efficient."

"I suppose…"

"And I suppose it's about time for me to take you home."

"Right," she said, pulling out her phone and checking the time, a text from Daphne lighting up on the screen as unread. "My roommate's wondering if I'll be back in time to eat."

"I think I can manage that," he said, checking his watch. "But we'd better hurry."

As she began to follow him down the hall, she smiled to herself. He'd been relaxing more as the day went on, and he was finally talking to her as if they were on equal ground. She quickened her steps to be in stride with him about the time that he held the front door open for her.

He unlocked the car when they were still several feet away, and once again Esmerie smiled. She broke out in a run.

"Esmerie!" Louis called after her, but she didn't stop running.

She reached the car long before him and threw open the door to the passenger's seat, climbing inside and settling herself in before he made it to the vehicle. When he opened the driver's side door and sat down, she was beaming like a child who'd just received a perfect score on a test. He gave her a suspicious glance.

"Equal ground," she reminded him. He laughed a little and sighed.

"All right." He closed his door and settled into the seat, buckling himself in before starting the car.

When they made it back out onto the street, she turned her attention to the passing buildings, the fun she'd had with the children starting to simmer out of her system. She'd started to feel calm again, and without moving, she addressed Louis.

"You did it again, you know."

"I'm sorry?" He glanced away from the road and back again.

"Back at the orphanage, when talking to the children. You called me 'Miss Esmerie.'"

"I did?"

"You did."

He waited to answer again, and she looked over at him. He was watching the road, seemingly searching for the memory. She waited patiently for him to find it.

Finally, "Oh. I guess I did. I'm sorry."

She laughed. "I'm just teasing, Louis."

She re-focused her attention on the scenery, watching as it got cleaner, shinier, more modern. "But I am glad at how you allowed yourself to relax around me."

They stopped at a red light, and he pulled his attention away from the road. "I am, too."

She smiled down into her lap. Prince Edward wasn't the only one whose earnest nature could make someone shy. She was watching the other cars through the windshield when they pulled away from the intersection.

"So what was the violin thing the children were talking about? Do you play?"

"Oh, uh, yes. I do."

"Really? When did you learn that?"

"Um… I was young. I suppose it was around the time the Levancois took me in that I started to learn."

"I guess that makes sense. But weren't you busy with all the training you were going through?"

"Yes, but…"

When he trailed off, Esmerie glanced over at him again. "But what?"

Louis gracefully guided the car onto a new street before he answered. "But one always finds time for what matters. If it's something you love, there's no such thing as 'not enough time.'"

He smiled without taking his focus off traffic, and Esmerie decided to leave him alone while he drove. She sat back into her seat, slouching into the high-end leather, letting her tired head fall back onto the headrest.

When they made it back into town, and Esmerie could see the rising floors of her apartment building towering over the people milling about on the streets, she decided to ask Louis the question that had been on her mind.

"Louis, do you think it's possible that the orphanage is a resting place?"

"I'm sorry?"

She shook her head. "The spirit the children mentioned. Do you think it's real?"

"The children certainly believe so. But I'm not sure that I have much invested in the idea of the spirit world."

"Oh," she said, crossing her arms and pulling on the fabric of her sleeves.

Louis found a spot outside her apartment building and parked his car on the street. Once the car was stopped, he turned to look at her.

"Do you think it's real, Esmerie?"

"I don't know," she said, daring to uncross her arms. She ran her forefinger around her wrist, tracing the inside of the elastic at the end of her sleeve. "With what the children were describing, the things that it had done, it didn't sound much like a resident."

"But ghosts can be hostile, can't they?"

"Of course." She sat up. "But when a resident doesn't want someone around, the things that the intruder experiences are different than what the children were saying. It would be a—a force, or a pressure, stopping them from going somewhere," she barely noticed her arms starting to circle and flair, "or—or things breaking, voices, pounding…"

Her eyes made contact with Louis's, and she stopped talking momentarily, seeing how seriously he was watching her, how much he was listening to her.

"…not blinding them momentarily, not throwing itself on a little girl's head. And the adults should have heard of it if it was a resident."

She looked up at him from underneath her lashes, and he was staring out the windshield, his eyes slowly moving back and forth. After a moment, he nodded, slowly.

"Then I think it's something we ask the staff about tomorrow. We'll see if any of them have had wind of it, or any experiences. Maybe that will give us a better idea of what it is."

"Either way, something's frightening the children, and the staff should be aware of it."

"You are absolutely right." He smiled at her, the way he did when they were alone on the playground earlier that day. "It's wonderful that you care about them, Esmerie."

She shrunk back down into her seat. "They're children, Louis."

"Children that most people overlook. Or worse."

"I suppose." She was back to playing with the elastic on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, that was a bit much. But I do think that it's wonderful how much you care for the children. And they've certainly taken a liking to you, too."

"Yeah…" She sat up again and reached for her purse, sitting on the floor by her feet. She slung it over her shoulder and scooted to the edge of the seat as she reached for the handle of the door. "You know, Louis," she said as she caught his eyes one more time, "I'd like to hear you play the violin, too."

He smiled at her as she pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. "Good night, Esmerie."

"Good night, Louis."


End file.
